


Every Day a Little Death

by pearltea



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon Compliant, Drunken Shenanigans, Introspection, L is Oblivious to His Own Feelings, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Team Bonding, Yotsuba Arc (Death Note)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27299827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearltea/pseuds/pearltea
Summary: L and Light have lots of unresolved tension. Suddenly, Misa bursts in with a case of beer. They all drink like college freshmen, and poor choices are made.An exploration of awkward, painful, and sometimes tender feelings between L, Light, and Misa. Set during the Yotsuba arc, during the brief period after L constructs his plan to infiltrate Yotsuba but before Rem contacts Misa.
Relationships: Amane Misa & L, Amane Misa & L & Yagami Light, L/Yagami Light
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Every Day a Little Death

**Author's Note:**

> "Every day a little death  
> In the parlor, in the bed  
> In the curtains, in the silver  
> In the buttons, in the bread..."

L rubbed his jaw, muttering an oath in French under his breath.

Still sore.

Light Yagami, the source of his hurt, was impossible to avoid. Saturday evening meant that the Task Force Headquarters felt even more abandoned than usual. It was a skyscraper-sized building for a handful of people that dwindled by the day, after all. Misa was off on a modeling job. Aiber and Wedy had gotten rather chummy lately, and they were out carousing through a series of smoky bars together. (L wondered what it would be like to enjoy pub-crawling as much as those two, and was almost jealous. Almost.)

It was just him and Light holding down the fort. They worked side-by-side in an uneasy silence — a temporary ceasefire.

Only yesterday, they’d come to blows over the likelihood that Light had plans to wield Kira’s power again. They’d been able to move past those “differences” for now, because of their mutual goal: hunting down the current Kira working for Yotsuba. Still, the atmosphere remained uneasy. L had strong-armed Light into agreeing to infiltrate the company using Misa Amane as bait, a manipulation that Light resented.

There wasn’t much to do at the moment, and most of the Task Force had (naturally) gone back to their homes for the weekend. But Light and L were both staying up late on their laptops, sitting parallel to each other on two twin-sized beds that had been positioned an arm’s length apart to accommodate the chain that connected them.

L was having trouble making up his mind about Light Yagami. That was a massive understatement, but it had never been truer. It was as if the other man’s entire demeanor had changed in confinement. Something about him was painfully genuine now, his personality almost corny in its earnestness and devotion to doing the “right thing.”

Yet Light _was_ Kira. It followed that there could only be two hypotheses. Light was either a victim of the real Kira’s control, or one of the most incredible liars that L had ever encountered.

Right now, L pretended to work, but really he was mulling over the problem of Light Yagami once again. It was something he did for hours at a time lately, like an addiction — combing through each interaction they’d had, hearing every word that had left Light’s lips echoing in his head ad infinitum. He relived their recent fight — the sensation of Light’s fist connecting with him, of being grabbed by the collar and shouted at. A single suspect had never wormed his way so deeply into L’s mind. It was disturbing.

Then, at 11 PM, Misa Amane barged into the room carrying a large cardboard box.

L couldn’t help but view Amane as something of a human wrecking ball. A bit unfairly, perhaps. She wasn’t stupid, but compared to Light, she was a fountain of blunders. Any normal person would be, compared to Light. Tonight, she seemed especially determined to play that role.

“I’ve made a decision! It’s the weekend, and since I’m not allowed to go to clubs on my own, _we’re_ going to have a party to celebrate being friends!” While L’s relations with his roommate had degenerated into a cold war that threatened to go hot again at any moment, Misa’s perception of him had never been better. And all it took was the “analysis” that she was the perfect woman for Light.

She slammed down the box onto the ground with a loud _clatter_. L and Light both peeked over to see it was full of cans and bottles.

“Misa!” Light frowned and shut his laptop. “Where did you get all this?”

She was beaming, and in the process of unlacing her tall boots. Her lacy black dress was so short that it was almost obscene as she leaned over. “Matsu bought it for me after my shoot today!”

L groaned. He'd need to have a serious word with Matsuda. Still, the introduction of alcohol to was an interesting development. The possibility of using it as another little test proved irresistible. Alcohol wasn’t a truth serum by any means, but it did impair judgment and heighten impulsiveness. If Light was hesitant to have some, it could be because he was afraid of letting something slip.

Light’s look of irritation showed that he was, as usual, on the same page as L. He crossed his arms, playing the part of the responsible honors student. “The legal drinking age in Japan is 20. We’re both still too young. Honestly, Misa, it’s awful that Matsuda would agree to buy this for you.”

A pout appeared on Misa’s face. “Whaaat? You’re not even grateful? I’ve been asking him and Mochi really nicely all week.”

L shrugged. “Underage drinking a _malum prohibitum_ offense. In my opinion, there’s nothing inherently immoral about it. In fact, the drinking age is 18 in many countries.” He tapped his cheek, thinking. “It _is_ Saturday night, and we don’t have all that much to do until Yotsuba discusses Coil’s next report, so… I leave the decision up to you two.”

“Yayyy!” Misa threw her arms around L’s shoulders. Her bleach-blond hair brushed against his face; it smelled like tropical fruit perfume. “You can have some, too, Ryuzaki! It’ll be a party!”

“I don’t like alcohol.”

“Don’t be silly; I got beer, but I also got chū-hai. Even girls like chū-hai. It’s a cocktail, see?” She pressed a can into his hand.

L glanced at the cheerful, bright yellow label with a picture of a lemon on the front; it looked like a soda. L had never tried a cocktail. He’d only snuck a sip of Watari’s whiskey once, and he’d had to scrub his tongue to get the foul taste out. Besides, he didn’t like to dull his mind.

But if he drank, then Light would naturally feel encouraged to partake as well. Besides, he’d never been to a party before, much less a party with two of his suspects. 

Maybe it would be interesting.

Or, at least, it would break up the monotony of his thoughts.

L positioned his thumb over the aluminum tab.

“Well, then. I propose a toast to my two friends, and our newfound cooperation.”

Light glared at him as if to say _you can’t be serious_. Yet he reached over and picked up a beer, because that’s what a normal To-Oh boy would do.

The canned drink was cloyingly sweet, like lemonade, with only a hint of bitter aftertaste. Not much worse than coffee. He actually enjoyed it, and had to concede that for once Amane was right.

— — —

A short while later, Misa emerged from her room wearing a baggy band t-shirt and long, black-and-white striped socks that went up to her thighs. Comfortable, but so ridiculously cutesy... she was clearly trying to show off for Light, hoping to get something out of him, but tonight’s ending was a foregone conclusion. Almost sad to watch, if Misa Amane was a person worth pitying.

Misa sat beside Light on his bed. L made small talk with them about the details of the case for a while, asking polite questions about the patterns of the Kira killings before their confinement, and what their analysis was on them. He also asked about their lives for the few months before confinement — how did they feel? What did they do during that time? His ears were perked for inconsistencies or slip-ups.

They all drank at the same pace, keeping up with each other, and soon they had polished off quite a few cans and bottles between the three of them.

Misa seemed clueless under questioning, and blabbed freely about her life as a model. Light was maintaining his composure very well; although he definitely knew he was being needled, his responses were flawless, if a bit vague. He didn’t have much to say about going to university, or when he was in high school preparing to sit his exams. When prodded, he’d just say something like “I was studying really hard” or “I guess I’d hang out with friends sometimes.”

“What is this, another interrogation? This is so boring.” Misa lay on her back on Light’s bedspread, her legs propped against the headboard, one slender ankle crossed over the other. “Seriously. We’re supposed to be having fun, and all you two can do is keep going over the same old crap? Ooh, I know!” Her mood was bubbly all of a sudden. She kicked off the wall, rolled over, and stood up on the bed. “Can I use a laptop?”

He wasn’t getting anywhere useful with the conversation, so he allowed Misa to commandeer his computer, watching over her shoulder. She pulled up a file-sharing website and began downloading a bunch of music tracks. (Suddenly, he was watching another crime be committed...) Apparently she wanted to show off some dance she was learning for a new ad campaign audition, using an old mega-hit song from a 90s idol group. L recognized it as she pressed play on the track and began blasting it from the laptop speakers. He actually liked pop music; it was one of his guilty pleasures.

“What do you think of this?”

She dashed in front of the two beds and danced an adorable, bouncy little routine for them, striking a peace sign pose at the end.

L clapped politely, while Light looked on in disbelief.

As the next song began to autoplay, she grabbed Light’s hand and tugged him on his feet to join her.

“Hey, I don’t really dance...”

“It’s easy, like this!” She laced their fingers and swayed her hips, puppeteering Light’s arms up and down to the beat, making the handcuff chain jangle loudly.

Light was mortified.

Misa giggled. “Aw, Ryuzaki, you’re humming along!”

Was he? He hadn’t noticed. He felt himself smiling, though.

“Dance with us too!” She pulled him up, and he stood there awkwardly with his index finger near his mouth. He didn’t know what to make of this, so he just stuffed his hands in his pockets and bobbed up and down a bit. “We’re going to catch Ki-ra! … And sing karaoke! Let’s do karaoke next!”

It was his first time dancing.

It wasn’t as bad as he thought, either.

— — —

“Ohhh, I really don’t feel well.”

Light and L each supported Misa with one arm, shepherding her through the door frame and into her attached bedroom. They made it to her bed, where she face-planted down.

They’d nearly emptied the cardboard box, and had done some impromptu karaoke of popular songs and more dancing, prodded along constantly by Misa’s fanatical energy. Even Light had eventually relented.

Her pigtails were now half-undone, and one of her socks had rolled all the way down to her calf. It was a sad sight. L slid a wastebasket up to the edge of her bed.

“Liiight,” she whined, grabbing hold of his shirt. Her blond hair was spilling out everywhere. “Did you have fun?”

“Surprisingly, yeah.”

“Come under the covers with me.”

“I can’t. Here, I’ll leave a glass of water on the end table.”

“Light?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you so much.”

“You should drink the water and go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Good night, Misa.”

L watched Light flick off the table lamp, and then they shuffled back to their own adjoining bedroom and shut the door.

The atmosphere was tense again almost immediately. Misa had stolen the show for a while, but now it was just the two of them once again. Though the tension was dulled by the fact that L now had slight double vision.

“She really cares for you.”

“I know.”

It was no wonder that she’d had too much, since she’d nearly been keeping pace with them. She was a small woman, after all.

L’s entire body felt lighter, almost effervescent. How many cans had he drank...? He looked at the wastebasket and tried to count: one, two, three, four, five—

“Ryuzaki, what was the point of all that?”

“I’m not sure. Against all reason, it _was_ sort of fun.”

“Yeah, I guess it was.”

“I have to give Miss Amane credit. No one is so talented at forcing others to have fun.”

“Did you know that you’re tone-deaf, by the way?”

“I did not.”

“Well, you are.”

“I suppose it’s one of my weaknesses, then. Your singing voice is quite nice.”

A long, _long_ pause.

“Be honest. What will it take for you to believe I’m not Kira?”

Back to the old chestnut. L was ready. “Whatever the case, you’re involved in this somehow,” L opened up another can with a hiss, and took a gulp. “We’ve been over it. Either you were a victim of Kira, and you were controlled, or, urp—” He paused, hiccuping. “You gave up Kira’s power willingly, plotting to receive it again later. The latter is about, hmm. 90% likely. I think you’re conniving enough to do that.”

“Fuck you, L. And your percentages, too. Are you saying I should give up trying to argue my own innocence?”

“L?” L pressed his thumb against his lips. Light was losing control. “It’s Ryuga. Oops, I mean, erm. Ryuzaki. And I’ve made up my mind, so you may as well give up.”

“And there we have it — you’re being a stubborn asshole. You just said as much yourself. You’ve ‘made up your mind’ because you can’t stand the fact that your theory about me was wrong. But I _know_ that I wasn’t controlled by anybody, and that I have nothing to do with Kira. You might be unwilling to change your mind, but I’m not going to stick my head in the sand alongside you!”

“Perhaps you have no memory of being controlled? I’ve thought of that possibility myself.”

“How would that even happen? Do you have any idea how demeaning it is to wake up and work my ass off every day for someone who thinks I’m a mass murderer?” Light took him by the shoulders and shook him. He was surprised, but barely felt it, even as some liquid sloshed out of the can in his hand. “All I want is to help you!”

“If you’re innocent, it will be clear soon enough, I promise. I will find the whole truth. Now calm down, Light. You’re drunk.”

“ _You’re_ drunk!”

L stoically chugged the last can and tossed it aside.

“Yes. I am drunk for the first time. It feels strange.”

“Seriously? It’s your first time drinking? You’re really a shut-in.” Light’s outburst was over, and his head lolled forward, but his arms were still on L’s shoulders. “Yeesh. I bet you’ve never had sex, either.”

“And what’s so terrible about that, Light? Is it a crime or something?” He cupped Light’s cheeks in his hands, and raised the other man’s face up to look at him. Such a bold touch would normally be unthinkable, even for him — but he didn’t feel a thing. He was immune to awkwardness at the moment. He just wanted a clear view of Light’s reaction. “Why this line of questioning?”

Light looked away. His hair was delightfully messy at the moment, with strands hanging over his eyes — eyes the color of caramels. “Sometimes I wonder. What is your life like, to make you so callous towards others? Have you ever kissed a girl, or do you just sit inside and solve cases all day? Are you even human?”

“Glass houses, Light. Do _you_ want to kiss girls?”

“What...?” A blush spread across the bridge of Light’s nose, and he blinked, staring for a few seconds.

“Miss Amane once said that you kissed her. But when I asked you about your feelings in confidence, you told me it was totally one-sided. Even now, she throws herself at you and you refuse her. So why did you kiss her?”

“I... I don’t know.” Light seemed genuinely confused, and almost distressed, as if he were trying to make sense of it himself. “She confessed to me, and I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“So you lead her on. That was your plan?” L couldn’t get any closer if he tried. He wanted to drink in all the details of Light’s face. Perfectly handsome, even up close; no wonder Misa was obsessed. “Wouldn’t that only make letting her down even more of a challenge?”

“I said I don’t know. I think maybe I was... afraid of her...?” Everything in Light’s expression pointed to cognitive dissonance; he was trying to reach back into his memories and construct some sort of narrative.

“You were scared? Of what, exactly? Perhaps you were trying to force yourself to feel attraction to her, because you were afraid of the possibility that you don’t like women.”

Light stammered for a moment. “What the hell, Ryuzaki? I’m still trying to figure out my own feelings about this! They don’t have to make perfect sense — and they don’t exist for you to raise or lower my Kira percentage, or accuse me of ‘not liking women’, or whatever it is that you’re trying to do right now! None of your previous questions have helped you figure things out, have they? So you’re just being cruel.”

“You’re right.” It had slipped out. A foolhardy deduction that had little to do with the case, other than baiting Light into contradicting himself or saying something incriminating under out of anger.

As an apology, L backed off a bit; he dropped his hands and gave Light a few conciliatory pats on the shoulder.

“Asshole. You really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Light’s brow furrowed. He was still so close that L could perceive the hoppy scent of beer on his breath. L really didn’t understand how anyone could stomach the taste of beer. “I know how to perform for women. I’m sure you would terrible at it.”

Light didn’t say he wanted to. He said he knew how to perform. Always the actor.

“False. I could do that sort of thing easily, if I had any desire to.”

“Yeah. Right.” Light leaned in. They were so close, their noses were almost touching. “You’re so full of it sometimes.”

L could feel the heat radiating from Light’s face. “You’re wrong. I _could_.”

Light lurched forward, and their mouths smashed together for a moment. Then he pulled back, smiling in triumph.

“See? I knew it! You’re garbage.”

L suffered a controlled fall, backwards, onto the foot of his own bed.

He couldn’t judge his companion’s intentions. Was he being mocked? Did Light somehow see through him, and realize how attractive he found him at that moment, and decide to exploit it just to prove a point? Light had been acting so noble and self-righteous lately about not wanting to exploit Misa’s feelings for personal gain, it didn’t make sense…

“You — you realize that’s hardly fair. You can’t surprise me like that to assess my skills.” L sounded wounded. He could take most personal attacks with grace, but this was a rare vulnerable spot, and somehow Light had found it. He really didn’t have experience in this area.

Light leaned down to meet his gaze. “‘He who strikes first wins.’ You said that after cheap-shotting me with a tennis serve.”

Incensed, L sat up and brought his mouth against Light’s, making contact longer, creating a bit of suction and giving him a few small, quick kisses. Time seemed to be flying forward, and he didn’t even know how long they were connected, but Light was different when he pulled away. More docile.

“Huh,” he mumbled. “Much better, but you still have room for improvement.”

He took L’s head in his hands and drew him in, pressing their mouths together. His lips were so soft, L thought. Light was leaning over him now, and he was moving backward onto the bedspread.

Light broke away for a moment. “Close your eyes, dummy.”

He did. It helped — now, he existed in a dark dream-world, lying back on a soft mattress, focusing entirely on how his lips fit together with Light’s. The kisses were getting longer and deeper. He didn’t process the fact that they were making out, as much as he mindlessly enjoyed the sensations — learning how much pressure to use, teasing Light’s lips with his tongue. It was a dance, a conversation, where they both goaded each other forward.

Light took a moment to breathe. “Woah. You taste really sweet.”

Then they were at each other again, sloppy and uninhibited, almost _angry_. Warmth rose to L’s face. He wanted Light to use more tongue, to taste more of him. He ran his hands over Light’s sides, feeling his ribs through the silky fabric of his button-down shirt, traveling down to his trim waist. He felt perfect — irritatingly perfect. Like a sculpture plucked right out of the Louvre.

Suddenly, Light sat up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Shit! The cameras...”

L was reeling. “O-oh. It’s 2 AM on a Sunday, I’m certain no one is watching.”

“It’s still not good! What if someone goes over the footage tomorrow morning?”

“I'll delete it.”

“Would you turn the cameras off for now, too?”

L took a few measured breaths, trying to settle down. “Was that your goal from the beginning?”

“What? Seriously? Ryuzaki, I wouldn’t do something like that...” Light looked like a sad puppy. “I just hate being watched all the time.”

L nodded. In his gut, he felt that Light was telling the truth about this, and he was in no state to second-guess it. “I’ll delete the footage now, so I don’t forget.”

“Please.” Light rubbed his eyes. “I mean, God. I don’t even have any privacy. The bathroom is the only place that isn’t under surveillance,” he slurred. “And I can’t even spend long in there because I know you’re _lurking_ right outside the door, connected to me by this chain. That’s less than I had at home. I’m eighteen; I need to be alone sometimes.”

“I understand. It’s only natural.”

L sat up, reached for one of his laptops, and dragged Light into the small bathroom, knowing that it was a safe haven for them to talk. He was too intoxicated to really care about cleanliness, but the floor and porcelain were immaculate. With some difficulty, he navigated through the live camera feed and clipped out the last few hours of recording. It was doubtful that anyone would notice, other than Watari. And he didn't have to explain himself to Watari if he didn't want to.

They sat opposite each other on the cold tile. L was so out of it that his legs were splayed flat on the floor — he felt no urge to crouch. They were both tall, L especially, so there was barely enough room for the two of them.

“All gone.” L rolled his foot against Light’s thigh.

“Thanks.” Light curled his fingers around the ball of L’s foot in response — the gesture was more absentminded than tender, but it made L quiver. Light leaned back against the glass wall of the shower and closed his eyes. “Ugh. I’m sorta worked up. It’s really late, but I won’t be able to sleep, I think.”

L shut the laptop and let it slide onto the floor. “Neither will I.”

Light inhaled slowly through his nose. He leaned his head onto his shoulder and looked at L through half-lidded eyes. “How fucked up would it be if we both just—never mind.”

The insinuation hovered in the air.

L cocked his head to one side in turn. “Are you saying that you want to touch yourself, or something like that?”

“I... yeah,” Light admitted. It was difficult to read his emotions. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead. It wouldn’t bother me.” L could feel his heart start to thump at the possibility. And he realized with dim alarm that he _liked_ the possibility. A lot.

“You get it, right? We’re both guys, and we both need to calm down and get to sleep. ‘S no big deal.”

“Right. Okay.” L couldn’t believe he was agreeing to this. Light was throwing out a flimsy excuse to engage in mutual masturbation — or, no, maybe he really did think that this was normal for straight men to do under desperate circumstances? and maybe it was? — but L felt horny and impulsive, and his hand moved before his brain could keep up. His gaze settled on a bit of grout in the corner of the bathroom as he undid his jeans. He still felt shameless, and somewhat numb, but he didn’t particularly want to look at his own body.

He fumbled to pull himself out through his boxers, and got to work roughly stroking. He was businesslike at first — just trying to finish himself off as quickly as possible in order to release the tension that had pent up inside him when they were making out. He tried to rationalize it a simple physiological process, a way to banish his feelings under the harsh buzz of the bathroom’s fluorescent lighting.

But eventually Light’s breathing deepened, and L heard the rhythm of skin quietly sliding against skin just a couple of feet away. The sounds, however subtle, soaked into him. God — it was hot. He slowed down his movements a little, swirling his thumb around the head of his cock and listening for more from his companion.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long before he heard Light start to exhale satisfied little “ah”s. Christ, it made him ache. He still didn’t look over - he had to be content with little auditory cues - but he could tell that Light was enjoying himself, and that was enough. His mind was busy imagining the rest. He knew nearly every detail of Light’s body from memory, so it wasn’t difficult.

L paused to lick his palm and then began moving quickly up and down his shaft. He felt like an animal. Each small vocalization from Light — every rustle of pants fabric from him shifting his legs, or clink of metal from the chain between them — set off a stronger spark. His excitement was building, and he could tell that he was close. A soft grunt escaped him. He could have sworn that Light responded in turn. And then:

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” muttered Light.

The words were thick with arousal. He was either coming, or just about to.

L was helpless. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the wall, his dull surroundings entirely forgotten. He had no shame; he just wanted to disappear into that voice. He hadn’t masturbated since the two of them were chained together, so he could tell that the orgasm he was about to experience would be incredible. He tugged himself with intensity, twisting his hand around his length and groaning as he exploded over his own jeans.

Normally the post-nut clarity would have set in immediately, but L had no capacity for clarity of any kind at the moment.

He redid his pants and sat there, chest heaving, as his heart rate slowly returned to normal.

“Ryuzaki…”

“Bed?”

“Yes.”

He should have known. A ceasefire between them could never last long. Even if the rules of engagement had changed.

For the first time in years, he neglected to shave or clean his teeth. He pulled off his sticky jeans (why had he even put them back on?) and then it was straight to bed, so soft and inviting. His head spun as he shut his eyes, and he felt as if he were clinging to his mattress in the midst of a stormy sea.

For once, the question at the back of his mind wasn’t whether it was Light Yagami or Kira that he'd pleasured himself next to.

The question was how much of it he’d remember.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest, I don't know what I set out to accomplish with this fic, but I do want to continue it. So thanks for reading, and please let me know if you liked it! Also I posted without proofreading super carefully, so I am very sorry if the writing is clunky in places!! If I keep it going, then I'll go back and edit with a more fine toothed comb eventually.


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